Killer Cousins (31 page)

“But you were still concerned.”

She nodded. Removed her bulky sack of papers from her lap and set it on the floor. “I didn’t get another note, but I worried. I’d been feeling too down on myself to call the police and chance looking like a fool in front of them.”

“Why down on yourself?”

“Oh, look at me. I’ve let myself go for so long. My weight. My hair.” She ran her fingers through the thin gray stands. “I can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Stevie, all of those are things you can deal with and improve if you want to. You can go to a beauty shop and get back to exercising. I’ll go with you. I’ve gotten much too chunky and could use lots of help.” She really wanted a boyfriend? “We’ll see what we can do about a man for you.”

A glint of hope touched her eyes. A trace of a grin. “That’s why I wanted you here with me. You’re my closest relative who could give me advice. Having you with me a while would help me feel protected, at least until I’d gotten over all the fear.”

“That note wasn’t the only thing that scared you, was it?”

“I found other warnings. My cards.” She looked away.

“And I guess your candles and other silliness.”

She hung her head. “I am such a failure. I’m not like you, Cealie.”

“Like me?”

“You made a go of your business. I know you worked hard for a long time with Freddy, but then you became successful on your own.”

I shoved up to my feet. “Stevie, you are a definite success. You have a job you love with children you adore and this nice house.”

She scanned the living room. “The house that’s half-ass done. It’s half-ass Feng Shuied, like I found I used the right colors in the wrong places. I’ve used half-ass psychic crap. That’s how my whole life goes.”

I shook my head, unable to believe I was hearing this.

“You know how I go in my inner sanctum, the room with the candles? I’ve been trying to learn who killed Pierce Trottier, but I’m not getting anywhere.”

“That doesn’t make you a failure. The police have been trying to find the killer. So have I. None of us have succeeded yet.”

“You?” She looked incredulous.

“Every day.” My enthusiasm built. I sat close and gripped her hand. “I wasn’t sure. I was nosing into everyone’s business from your quitters’ group, but nothing seemed to fit. But now with what April told me, don’t you see? The note you received must have been meant for her. Both of your houses and fences look the same. Pierce Trottier probably put that note under your fence, thinking it was hers, but then realized it was the wrong place. That’s why you stopped getting blackmail notes, but she didn’t.”

Stevie
garrumped,
sounding as though there was a brick caught in her throat. She stared at me. “So what are you saying?”

Compassion filled me for the sometimes-annoying child I now considered in a new light. “The girl needs to be protected.”

“You just told me her mother’s doing that.”

“Yes, the maternal urge to protect our children must be the strongest drive ever created. And April surely had a reason—more than one—to want that man away from her child. April is wiser than she seems. What if she’d found out who was sending her threats?”

“And—?”

“She’d be terrified that she could lose her daughter.”

Stevie snorted, her eyes wide.

My hands felt icy with the thought. “So she had sex with him. And killed him.”

Stevie’s mouth opened. Her face mottled. “You get the hell out of here.”

She’d uttered the words almost as one. I couldn’t believe it. “What did you say?”

She rose. Glared down at me. “You get the hell out of my house and leave me and the people I love alone. I mean it, Cealie! Get out of here. And if you tell the police what you
think
you know about the people I love next door, I’ll hate you and haunt you the rest of your days!”

I sat, dumbfounded. Then rose. Numbly walked to the bedroom where my things were. Heard a door in the hall slam and lock. I gathered my loose items into my suitcase. Went to the kitchen and got Minnie. I left through the front door.

Chapter 31

I drove aimlessly, not knowing where I should go. I would get a room, probably in a downtown motel. And a hot tub. Or I might rent a cabin, I decided after miles of driving without paying attention to anything nearby.

Starting to glance around, I looked for
Vacancy
signs. Didn’t see them. Became surprised at the number of motels with
No Vacancy
signs lit.

I stopped at one of the nicer places. Yes, I was told, most rentals were booked now. Didn’t I know one of the largest craft shows in the South was taking place this week? I must be the only woman in the country who didn’t know.

Da-dunt, da-dunt, da-dunt
. I grabbed my phone. “Yes?”

“Ah, yes. A good answer.” Gil’s light tone lifted my spirits a pinch.

“How are you?” I hated to ask, not needing to deal with more negatives. I’d created his pain. And Stevie’s misery.

“I’m much better. Come over, and I’ll show you.”

I managed a half grin. “Where are you? At the restaurant?”

“No, in my cabin. It’s great. You would love it.”

“Is it up on a mountainside?”

“Yep, and you can see cliffs and valleys. It’s a breathtaking sight.”

I did not need temptation. I was woman—able to do my own thing. See my own sights.

I passed cabin rental offices. No
Vacancy
signs yet. “Stevie kicked me out of her house. I need a place to stay.”

I heard his excited breath. “Come here. I have plenty of room.”

“No thanks. I’ll find my own place. I’ll call you when I’m settled in.”

We hung up. The sky darkened while I drove, going for miles and miles one way, then taking crossroads. Probably retraced many streets. I was lost and stopped at a deli for a tuna and water. The owner said I needed to go back to get near Gatlinburg again. That was where the police wanted me to stay. I inquired about a place to spend the night. He laughed long and hard. Said there would not be one vacant room for me to sleep in.

“Is your offer still good?” I asked when Gil answered my phone call.

His deep-throated laughter gave the answer.

“I can’t find a place, and I need a room to sleep in. By myself. I need sleep.”
And you can’t tempt me. I’m weary
.

“I have three bedrooms and a loft. It’s way too large for just me. Pick any bedroom you’d like.”

“Do you have a hot tub?”

“I wouldn’t do without one here.” He gave me directions. His voice sounded so full of cheer I almost called back and told him never mind, I’d sleep in my car.

But then I considered all the dark woods and the bears. Gil’s attractive cabin on a mountain cliff sounded better and better. I raced there.

* * *

During the last few miles, I drove through a vast dark canopy of trees. I turned to where Gil was staying and gasped.

Set on the edge of a cliff, the cabin was massive, one wall slung against the mountainside. No other cabins visible. I parked and stepped out of my car.

Stars winked through thick boughs. The scent of pine needles and sultry air greeted me. A small animal scurried, making me rush up the stairs to the porch.

“That’s probably a squirrel. It won’t eat you.” Gil smiled and came through the doorway.

“I know. I’m not scared.” I glanced into the yard but couldn’t see any small creature. Night cloaked all but the valley below, the sunlit sky, this porch, and Gil standing in front of me.

“I feel a slight tremble in your hands,” he said, clasping them. And then Gil took a step closer.

I stepped back. Sure, my hands trembled from his nearness and a possible scary creature. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

He pecked a kiss on my cheek and backed from my space. “I’m glad you’re here. I needed to talk to someone. You’re my best friend, Cealie. You can give me advice.”

“Well, if that’s the case. Sure, I’ll help you.” I walked inside, wondering if I’d truly convinced myself that’s why I wanted to stay. The cabin’s rustic interior gave off a comfortable feel. “Oh, and you’re wounded,” I added, supporting the reasons I could safely remain and avoid making love with him.

Gil nodded, and I could have sworn he then started hobbling.

“I know you’re sorry about all this,” he said, adding a limp.

Guilt flashed, followed by doubt. I didn’t think he’d been bent over or limping when he first came outside, before I mentioned his ailments. But the brightly lit open spaces beneath the vaulted ceiling gave me confidence that I could stay and avoid getting too close to him.

“Can I get your things out of your car?” he asked.

“Let’s wait and see. This is a beautiful place. I already ate. So tell me about your problem.”

He led me to the posh sofa. Then Gil went off and returned with two glasses of red wine. He gave me one and sat with me, but not too close. “You know I don’t complain about employees much, but I’ve been having a little trouble with my managers.”

I took a sip and nodded. “I know the situation.”

“Has it been that obvious?”

“Probably not to everyone. But I notice things, especially at your restaurants.”

We drank our wine. Gil said, “That’s what happened the night Fawn McKenzie died. A waiter wanted to talk to me. I put him off, which is something I seldom do. But you were there at that table. With the doctor.” He said that last sentence deeper in his throat. “I wanted to hurry over to see you.”

Right, and to make sure I wasn’t a couple with that hunk of maleness, the doc—who I certainly won’t tell you now is gay.

I lifted my drink. “What did the waiter want to tell you?”

“That my night manager and day manager were quibbling.”

“I know how to solve your problem.” I took another swallow.

“Let me top these off.” Gil tilted the wine bottle to both our glasses. He sat again, this time a little farther from me. “So what can I do about them?”

“You do nothing. I’ll do it.”

He eyed me long moments. “Part of Babs’s anger comes from Jake often running late to replace her.”

“Right.” I reached out and patted his arm. “And I’ll see about it.”

We gazed into distant places within ourselves, sorting through the situation. Most likely all Gil knew about the pair was that Babs seemed overly tense when Jake ran late. Gil probably didn’t know Babs was scared to drive in the dark. And he most certainly did not notice the attraction between them—especially Jake wanting to date Babs. But matchmaker Cealie did. Ideas raced about when and how I would get them together.

“People might not be afraid to come back to eat,” Gil said. “They’ll probably keep watching a while to see if anyone else has a problem at my place.” He swigged his drink, the pain in his face obvious. A woman had died in his restaurant. He definitely felt at fault.

“They haven’t figured out how the pieces of shrimp got in the gumbo bowl?”

“The police are still questioning people at work.” Gil sucked in a breath. He swilled his drink. Rose for another.

“That’s not like you,” I said about his drinking so much.

“Until we resolve this catastrophe, nothing about me feels like myself.” His slight limp remained as he went for a new bottle. He poured a little more for both of us.

“Would you like to go outside?” I asked. “I’d like to see the view. And we can get my suitcase and my plant.”

We left our glasses behind and went out into the night air. We stood on the section of porch overhanging the mountain’s ledge. A slight chill made me shiver. I drank in the sight—the ridge of smoke hanging onto cliffs beyond, the black feathery leaves reaching into the void, the layers of evening sky in soft pastels slipping into the dark. All was silent. I listened to myself and the man at my side breathing.

I looked at him.

Gil looked at me.

We stepped together and kissed, our first kiss since greeting each other tonight. And then we moved apart.

“I need to get Minnie.” I stepped down the stairs. Gil walked near me. Our sides bumped. I giggled and nudged him. He laughed, too.

Gil grabbed my suitcase from the trunk of my car. I slid Minnie out of the cup holder in front, smiled, and held her up to Gil. He knew all about her. We walked inside. I set Minnie on the table.

“I’m not going to bed with you,” I told Gil.

“I know.” He carried my suitcase farther. “There’s a loft you can have up there.” He pointed up the slender circular stairwell. “Or you can have that bedroom. Or that one. Or the master room.”

“The one you’re sleeping in? No thanks. I pick that one.”

“This one’s good. I guess. I haven’t looked in it.” He flipped on the lights, bathing a lovely white-paneled room with a yellow cast. “It is nice,” he said, seeming surprised. Gil set my suitcase on a luggage rack. “Need anything else?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, thanks. And I do appreciate your offer. I couldn’t find another place to stay tonight.”

“I’m glad I was here.” He brushed a kiss on my cheek. Stepped out of the room.

I took in the sumptuous bedroom and bath that balanced the feel of being rugged, yet extravagant. Getting my bath supplies out, I shut my bedroom door and then steeped my body in a long, luxurious shower. With hair still damp, I slipped on my black silk nightgown, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed. Extra comfy. Lots of soft covers.

I lay awake and thought of Gil.

I heard him stirring.

Was he wearing anything?

Not if he was going to bed.

“Gil,” I whispered.

“Yes.” He answered right outside my door. The door opened, and he walked in. Darkness beyond draped him in deep shadows.

“Were you going to come into my bedroom?” I asked, slipping out from my covers and getting to my feet.

“Not until you asked me to.”

“How did you know I would?”

His hand found a spot on my torso that made me smile. Gil’s arms came around me, those strong arms I knew so well. We kissed, our bodies moving closer, meshing into a perfect snuggle. “Would you like to play Twister?” I asked, making my lips stop nibbling his neck.